The assassin Black Rain had one hangup about his job.
This hangup was strange. His killing method had to be ‘blow to the back of the head with a bottle of alcohol’ every time.
It was rooted on the incident that changed his life, and even his showy nickname Black Rain was the name on the bottle of alcohol he used in his first kill.
He received a mission from a certain person in the ministry of magic, which brought him to a mine far from the capital.
He looked from afar as he spotted his target, along with a man who seemed to be her escort, entering a cave. A small smile formed on his well put together face, distorting it a little.
He was told she would be escorted by ten people… But it seemed this job would be easy.
Not long after his target entered the cave, he also entered it. Since he could not use magic, he had to rely on a magic stone for light as he advanced deeper into the cave.
He was given a map before coming here, and since the target was using small magic stones that emitted light to mark her way, she was easy to follow.
From there, the only issue was when to make a move… But even that was solved.
(…A fork in the road.)
Two small paths were in front of him, and the trail of magic stones continued in one of them.
Black Rain took out a bottle and a drug that made people faint from his backpack, and followed the light of the magic stones.
“…Mom, I’m sending another person that way. So… Don’t cry anymore.”
◆
Black Rain made his target faint, just as he planned. He noticed that there was a dead end not much further forward, so he picked up the target, and moved.
There was an opening at the end of this path, with bare rock with large crystals that shined red.
He placed the target on the ground, and held the bottle tightly. It was just like when he first killed someone. He always made sure to recreate that situation when he killed someone.
And just like back then, there was a strange excitement wrapped around his heart.
His hands shook like those of a drug addict as he held the bottle, something that happened every time he killed.
“If it wasn’t for you…!”
In spirit, he was once again a seven year old whose mother just died. And the woman in front of him was his loathsome father.
The sound of chaffing on sand was heard, as he took a step forward and kneeled next to the person who took his mother. He just had to swing down as he did back then, and he would be happy.
“…”
He whispered something, and swung his right arm down as hard as he could.
He heard a whooshing sound, which would then lead to the sounds he loved so much. A bottle breaking, and a skull being fractured.
…But instead, he felt the intense pain of his right arm exploding.
◆
“Who are you? No, forget it. You don’t have to say anything. I’ve got a pile of things to ask. Who are you, why are you here… But above all that…”
I try to contain my boiling anger and check on Sieglinde. I need to look at her more to know how she’s doing exactly, but at least I can tell she’s alive.
And so, I turn back to the man in front of me that’s already breathing faintly. Actually, I think he should be commended for breathing at all after his hand was blown away from the wrist.
I think about it for a bit, and come to the conclusion that right now I can’t afford even that little bit of kindness for someone about to die.
“I want to kill you.”
“Eek! Ah, ahh, mom! Mom help, it hurts!”
He starts crawling on the ground like a bug, moving his now asymmetrical arms to desperately try to get away from me. I raise my hand, and strike a certain part of him with magic.
“Gugigagah… Guuuuuh…!”
He lets out unsightly yells while writhing on the ground.
“I’ve made it easier for you to move. Run along.”
His left and right arms are symmetrical again. No, maybe I shaved off too much from the left side. I guess I used too much magic energy.
“Mom mom mom mom why why why I have to be happy why why?”
“…Mom? What?”
He’s not listening to me anymore. He’s just spasming and muttering.
“I have to kill I have to kill I have to kill I have to kill… It hurts… Mom…”
The man turns to the side. His eyes are empty, and he’s curling up like a kid… I think he’s trying to hold his knees, but I guess he’s now noticing that there’s nothing beyond the wrists, so he’s just limply falling into the sea of blood.
“M… Om…”
“…Did you have a harsh past? Did you think highly of someone in your family? Well, sorry, I don’t care. I’m not a good person. I think nothing of killing you.”
I raise my hand at the man. He might not even be breathing at this point, but maybe he is.
“Your mistake was putting Sieglinde to sleep. I wouldn’t want her to see this.”
What would she think if she knew I’m like this? If she knew I can kill people without any issue? Would she still stay with me and not look at me with scorn?
“…”
When did I start feeling scared of her disliking me? I feel like it’s a recent thing, but I also get the feeling that it was like this back then too. I don’t know, but in any case, thinking about her not liking me makes a strange pain run through my heart.
Could this be… What they call love?
“Hey you… Do you know anything about love?”
There’s no response. He’s already gone.
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